“soul sanctuary” photo by OneLittleFishie
You lack foundation.
the absence of substance allows for a hull, dark and soiled
With dripping salt,
up from which oozes the paranoia of such squalid thoughts.
Deep to the core of you,
The ancient-mortared and sickly
slick of you,
It is grey.
Uninhabited by squarely laid designs,
instead, the heaps of ladders mounted,
compromised, abandoned for any upcoming divinity.
A well so long ago forged is hard to cap.
It’s gravity a danger to any passerby only knowing
once it is far too late,
by the markings,
the crimson clawings
On your vacant walls.
“mermaid magdalene” digital collage by OneLittleFishie
The buoy of empty promise only holds air for so long
(I sink like a stone to a watery grave)
Nuclear fission of word and meaning
(My own fault, as per usual)
No accounting for the warp of water
(the nitrogen narcosis)
where everything seems to be a delight.
Choked and strangled
from the inside out
by the very element
I slithered over the desert
taking millions of years
(remember time? I didn’t think so.)
just to dive in
“your rib is an octopus” by Huebucket
Crimson soaked and dripping wings of joy
I remember you. In her belly with the particles of dust.
The womb of creation where we watched time unfold.
Where we were one. An ancient race created with that lost magic. Ripped apart in such violence that the sorrow stained my soul through the millennium.
I never remembered to what I owed this affliction. A melancholy through the times of grief and joy.
When I gazed upon your smile and reached through your eyes I saw the mirror and recognized myself. My eternal partner, my other half.
I relived the torment of what happened so many eons ago. The pain would be unbearable if not for the exaltation of this reunion!
And in this moment I felt healed. As though time began again. The wrongs forged into an eternal truth. A natural force of gravity drawing upon itself.
Endless, without boundaries:
by Carrie Ann Baade, used without permission
Survival is seductive.
My continued existence, nothing short of
Scars on scars. Faulty armor.
(Battle stories are so pedestrian.)
Enjoy the spoils of my war
while you champion another’s cause;
I’ve made it this far as an army of one.
cue strategic thinking).
After all, it’s simply a matter
how to win your heart
image by Jessica Singh, used without permission
November’s Full Moon (the Frost Moon), in the constellation of Gemini, illuminates seemingly minuscule details, to highlight just how different things can be at depth though they appear very similar on the surface.
Consider the archetype of Twins: although born to the same circumstance, identical is hyperbole when dealing with human personalities, psyches, and experiences.
Allow this Moon’s energy to lead you to the final New Moon of the year (11 December). Explore the truth of where you are, the notions of where you want to go, and look for the fulcrum in between. Focus attention at the New Moon toward inciting and accepting incremental change; you may find that the slightest nuance is the hair’s breadth that tips the scale between Intention and Manifestation.
image found online, artist unknown, used without permission
when I don’t breathe
the cosmos we’ve created
through my retinal vein
of atomic import).
with the first gasp back
in this reality’s artifice,
I’m captivated by you
and I rejoice…
(don’t say it)
there is too much
in this mirror world.
how dare you
acquit me of